


Gilderoy Lockhart and the Philosopher's Stone

by DarkMaledictor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMaledictor/pseuds/DarkMaledictor
Summary: After the his entirely understandable failure to prevent the deaths of the Potters at the hand of You Know Who, Gilderoy Lockhart takes their rather unremarkable child under his wing and leads him into a life of adventure that the boy could never have imagined. Battling evil wizards, facing down terrors in the dark forest and impossible riddles within the castle, Gilderoy reminds everyone why he is truly the greatest wizard of this, or any, age."His best work since Travels With Trolls, an absolute delight." - The Daily Prophet"Amazing, that Potter kid is so lucky to have the help of such a great, and handsome, wizard!" - Witch Weekly"Who publishes this rubbish? Literally none of this happened." M. McGonagall
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Gilderoy Lockhart and the Philosopher's Stone

**Author's Note:**

> This is 'What if Gilderoy Lockhart did to Harry Potter what he did to all of the other witches and wizards he stole credit from?"
> 
> Obviously, there are canon departures. Big ones. Hilariously large divergences from the canon events of Harry Potter because most of those weren't even about Gilderoy Lockhart and clearly that is a mistake. Consider this work a correction of that mistake.
> 
> I should warn you that in order to show Gilderoy in the best light most, if not all, of the major character's from the series will be... adjusted to fit his version of the narrative. Seeing beloved characters reduced to buffoonish, helpless caricatures may be unpleasant so consider that before heading on. Understand that this is the most unreliable of narrators.
> 
> What follows is an unabashedly absurd pack of lies.  
> For other such lies, consult the complete works of Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin (3rd Class).

Our story, strange though it may seem, begins somewhat distantly from my own adventures, readily available in my other works. Rather, this particular story must start in a very muggle city, on a very muggle street.

Mr. Dursley was a man of very particular tastes. He liked his tea a certain way, his house a certain way, and his family a very certain way indeed. What he liked, he called ‘normal’. Now, I warn you all, that a Dursley definition of ‘normal’ will strike you as odd in the extreme but I must assure you that, for a muggle, it all seems very ordinary indeed.

While Mr. Dursley was something of an unimaginative lout, his wife was a great deal more pleasant. I have it on the highest authority that she was an avid reader of my works, and even though not of magical abilities herself, the opportunity to follow my exploits was the only reason she maintained contact with her rather more disreputable sister. But we shall come to that in good time.

The Dursleys kept a very ordinary house on an ordinary street and tried very hard to live quite ordinary lives. Even their child, whom we shall call Dimsby (because for the life of me I cannot be bothered to look it up) was a remarkably unremarkable lump of a toddler. Well. Except perhaps for his size, for even then the lad was a bit roundish.

Mr. Dursley was something of a muggle business man, working in a factory and doing a great deal of shouting. Shouting about this, shouting about that. He did so enjoy a good shout whether or not it made the factory better produce whatever silly muggle nonsense they spat out. But he certainly seemed to think it was important.

So, on this particular day he was off from home at a perfectly ordinary time. But what should he see on his way but any number of wizards and witches out and about! Now, I understand, I too am constantly disappointed in what passes for muggle fashion, but we are supposed to be hiding! Walking about in your brand-new robes, out in full daylight, does nothing but leave a jolly mess for the rest of us to clean up thank you very much!

Mr. Dursley thought this very not ordinary in the slightest! So by the time he reached what’s-it-called where he helps make who-even-knows-what he was in quite a state! Huffing and puffing like a werewolf with hay fever (and let me tell you I have no little experience dealing with werewolves)! So, he set to shouting for the morning.

By lunch time, his little muggle brain had more or less forgotten about the disconcertingly properly dressed individuals he’d seen that morning and he set off across the street for whatever it is muggles eat. Coffee berries?

Well, he took his coffee berry bun or whatever it was and was heading back to the office when what should he see? Another one of you hapless clods trouncing about! Now, I shall have to give some allowance: as you shall soon understand that this was no ordinary day. Why? Well What Mr. Dursley heard would change his life forever.  
  
“He’s done it! He’s done it! The great one! The master wizard! Gilderoy Lockhart has defeated You Know Who! We are free! We are saved! All will know the name Gilderoy Lockhart and carry in their mind as a beacon of hope and security! We are saved!”  
  
That, dear readers, is when this simple muggle man first became aware of Gilderoy Lockhart. Now, I do not wish to seem tedious but it would be a disservice both to the narrative which I am obliged to lay down as well as the spiritual experience this quite ordinary muggle found himself in the midst of. This man, this so ordinary man, was hearing something incredible.  
  
The news of the Dark Lord’s fall, along with the incredible revelation that is Gilderoy, sent him dizzy. For the rest of the day, there was no shouting. He simply didn’t have the heart to bluster in so magical a moment. And even without his bluster the factory where he worked produce not twice, not three times, but four times as many of whatever on earth they make. I am just honored to have been able to touch these common lives in so humble a fashion.

That night, even the muggle news was filled with accounts of you ninnies out in your robes and the featherstorm of owls you all sent scattering. In the Dursley house, however, the only news was my defeat of You Know Who.  
  
“Daffodil,” Verdent called to his wife as he stumbled through the door, still in awe of the news. “Have you heard? Did you hear what Master Gilderoy has done?”  
  
“Yes! Isn’t it wonderful! The most evil wizard of the age was no match for Gilderoy Lockheart! I only wish I could have let you read his collected works sooner! Now that you know his name, you must read them all!”  
  
“And I shall!” Mr. Dursley announced through his ridiculous mustache. “In fact, I think we should read them together. Hearing stories of so great a man and wizard will be good for little Dimsby. Would you like that lad? A story about Gilderoy Lockhart?”

The boy, who up until now had been staring blankly at nothing in particular brightened up and with a smile managed “Gilderoy! Gilderoy Lockhart!”

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley both gasped.

“His first words!” Marigold stammered. “Oh, won’t the neighbors be jealous that his first words were the name of the greatest wizard of this, or any, age?”

“Indeed they will!” trumpeted Mr. Dursley, “In fact, why don’t we go tell them right now?”

But the celebration was cut short by a knock at the door.

The air of destiny was heavy on the Dursleys’ quaint little house in that moment. Had they the standing to have even a single house elf, it no doubt would have been frantically preparing something suitable for so esteemed a guest.

Slowly, Mr. Dursley approached the door. But even a door cannot restrain itself under such auspices and flung itself open even as his hand reached for the nob.

The room fell silent as I, Gilderoy Lockhart, stood before them holding the small babe whom I had, that very morning, torn from Death’s grasp.

Without a word, I was lead inside and, while signing Rose’s copies of my collected works, I recounted the tale of how I had saved this otherwise forgettable child…

*****

I had warned the Potters for some time that their lives were in danger, but James would hear none of it. I think, perhaps, he even hoped for a confrontation with You Know Who to prove himself to me. Lily was always going on about my adventures and I can only imagine the effect this may have on lesser men. But I respected his request for privacy. Certainly I could have pierced the spell protecting their house, child’s play, but I do not force my help upon those who do not want it. I am nothing if not a humble man.

Perhaps, if he had been a bit less proud, or read Lily’s copy of ‘Year with the Yeti’ more closely, he would have understood the dangers of trying to compete with a master wizard. It does not matter how innocent his motives may be, competing at this level in inherently dangerous for the ill prepared.  
  
And so, it was not until late that I received word that He Who Must Not Be Named had moved against the Potters. In a flash I was on the scene!

I found poor James, slain by a killing curse, as I made my way hurriedly through their broken home. I deftly picked my way through the knickknacks and trivia that lined their walls and floor. I could hear the child screaming, his mother already slain.  
  
I cursed the unvirtuous nature of my foe as I dashed into the child’s bedroom. I wasted no time and I dove headlong into the room. The Dark Lord’s wand was already in motion; there was no time to think. Some men are born with a hero’s heart, that vital instinct which allows them to save lives when other quail in fear. I sometimes wonder what it must be like to have the lesser burden of cowardice. But in that moment there was no wondering. Only action.  
  
Green light burst from You Know Who’s wand, lavender light from my own.

You have been told that there is no counter for the killing curse, and for the vast majority of wizarding kind that is true. There are, however, a few spells so powerful in their application that they can spare a soul from that lethal stroke, but they come at great cost. If a less powerful wizard had confronted You Know Who that day, it would have been he and Harry who perished. But fortune favored young Harry Potter, for it was Gilderoy Lockhart by his side.

I am afraid that I can neither confirm nor deny the details of the spell with which I thwarted He Who Must Not Be Named, but the results were clear for all to see. In the ruins of a nursery I stood triumphant, young Harry cooing softly in my arms, while the Dark Lord was nowhere to be found.

*****

“And so you bring the child to us?” stammered Chrysanthemum. “What are we to do with so simpl a boy? His parents could not even help you in your victory over You Know Who!”

“Please.” I held up my hand. “I know it will be hard but try not to hold their failure against young Harry. He did not choose his parents. Perhaps amongst those who know better, he might be raised to be of some use to the world.”  
  
Mr. Dursley’s mustache made a distastefully twitching motion for a while before he finally just nodded. It was a lot to take in for so simple a muggle.

And with that, and a set of signed portraits for each of the Dursleys, I was off to other adventures. But those are other stories.


End file.
